


“I’ve Waited So Long For This.”

by Radclyffe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b Ficlets, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Sherlock (TV) Season/Series 04 Fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22507288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radclyffe/pseuds/Radclyffe
Summary: A fixit for series 4 221 words at a time
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. “Can you feel this?”

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted as separate 221b ficlets for #fictober 2018 now brought together as one continuous work which I should have posted it as in the first place.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night-time, a side ward in the ICU, somewhere in London

Sherlock, spaced out on morphine, bullet hole in his chest millimetres from his heart is dozing, in his private room in the intensive care unit when John arrives. Or at least he supposes it is John, his blogger looks younger in the ambient light of a hospital at night time, his hair shorter, blonder, as it was when Sherlock first met him.

John sits, not on the unappealing orange plastic chair, standard NHS issue but rather perches on the edge of Sherlock’s bed. Good decision, Sherlock thinks, for more reasons than one.

John leans forward and gently kisses him on the lips. Sherlock's heart pounds and the green lights on the monitor reflect his turmoil.

“Steady” John whispers, “Didn’t intend to put you under any further strain”

Words crowd Sherlock’s mouth battling for supremacy. What? Why? How? Instead he whispers back “Don’t stop” and John kisses him again, with a little more pressure. This time Sherlock is ready for it and the monitor hardly gives a sigh.

“You’re married… to Mary” Sherlock is not to be toyed with.

“As are you” John counters “to your work”

Sherlock studies his beloved, notes the pupils blown wide, the breath fast and shallow and reaches to confirm his hope through John’s pulse.

“Can you feel this?” John smiles as he vanishes from the bed.


	2. "People like you have no imagination"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days later - Leinster Gardens

Mary, handed the phone by Wiggins finds her way into the empty house at Leinster Gardens. Unaccustomedly disconcerted by the projection of her face on the building’s façade, which despite the wedding finery, seems naked, exposed.

The voice of Sherlock taunts her; she senses his presence seated somewhere in the shadows and scans the corridor for a faint outline. Sherlock Holmes… her friend… rival… nemesis. Which is it to be this night? She briefly regrets she didn’t finish him off when she had the chance.

Behind her and unseen, Sherlock observes John’s wife, the deductions swirl around her head again, the liberal voting, lying, cat loving, only child, except now the list includes the word ASSASSIN!

“How could I not see that?” he asks out loud.

The answer comes easily to Mary “People like you have no imagination”

“People like me?” Sherlock queries. “Is it an indicator of the high functioning sociopath?”

“No, people who choose to see only what they want to see”

Sherlock considers her reply carefully “It seems we are alike then you and I” he states emerging from the darkness.

“Oh” she oscillates between the detective and his effigy. “Of course… a dummy”

“No quite” The distant figure rises, straightening its collar and its hair “It would seem that I am not the only one who’s blind”


	3. "How Can I Trust You?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Baker Street, later that evening

John Watson, at home in his chair, restored to its rightful place by the fireside. His anger is ice in his veins and fire in his belly and the steam inside him may explode at any moment.

They talk; God knows they can talk, the psychopath and the sociopath. They bounce off one another, at once congratulatory and conciliatory and all the while John plays gooseberry. They should have married each other; he says but doesn’t mean it.

Sherlock despite the physical pain he has inflicted on himself and the mental anguish he is inflicting on his friend cannot quite hide his delight at his own cleverness. 'Guess what I’ve found'.

Tearfully, Mary makes her confessions and concessions; John struggles to grasp the enormity of her duplicity, this woman whom he knows intimately and not at all.

“How can I trust you?”

He listens to his so-called best friend, tell him why his so-called wife can be trusted, using words designed to manipulate him into thinking wrong is right and death is life and what will end a life will save it. Sherlock offers the bullet as surgery and Mary hangs on to his argument; a life belt that she clings to amidst the wreckage of the good ship ‘Marriage’.

John nods in agreement, yet deep down he thinks ‘that’s bollocks!’


	4. "Will That Be All?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whitehall - three or four weeks earlier

Mycroft Holmes, personification of the British Government is ensconced in his private lair beneath the Cabinet Office in Whitehall; simultaneously he reads the latest report on the Korean situation while pondering the implications of that little unpleasantness, the most recent of gunpowder plots, to both involve a member of Her Majesty’s government and threaten the entirety. Lord Moran is singing like a canary, but as yet no-one can recognise the tune. If only Sherlock was more reliable,

He completes his daily round up of the world’s worst, darting between Iraq, Ukraine, Somalia, Syria and Yemen, Zimbabwe, the Central African Republic effortlessly operating in eight languages and six time zones at once until he lands on Serbia. Ahh! Serbia… plenty of unfinished business there.

Mycroft scans the screens that monitor the areas in which he takes special interest, GCHQ, Millbank, Scotland Yard, Chiswick, Baker Street and finally his Fitbit. He sighs and calibrates his carbs, no biscuits with his coffee again. Turning to his assistant he barks the orders for the day concluding with “And convene the inner sanctum, 3pm, Langdale, Porlock and Love, usual drill”

Finished, Mycroft pauses to draw breath.

“Will that be all?” Anthea asks

On the exhale Mycroft waits, undecided, and then he replies, “You might see if you can ascertain why Lady Smallwood is visiting my brother”.


	5. "Take What You Need"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baker Street - the evening before the crack den

“Sherl, you loon, where are ya?”

Janine has been leaving messages on Sherlock’s voicemail for the past hour, ever since she arrived at Baker Street and found him missing, so she’s caught on the hop when he finally answers.

“Thought we were having a quiet night in, in front of the telly, just you and me, maybe get to know each other better, if catch my drift”. She tries not to sound like a nag, successfully.

“I’m… working”

“For sure ya are, didn’t Mrs H tell me so when I arrived, said you’d flown out of the house looking like the Wreck of the Hesperus. Still, I’m lacking a better offer I thought I might as well stay and wait for you,” She cajoles “You’ve no objections have you?”

Sherlock has but doesn’t say so “Make yourself at home, stay the night if you like. There’s food and a bottle of white in the fridge, take what you need and I’ll be there as soon as possible. Miss you”.

Sherlock disconnects and a satisfied Janine wanders contentedly into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of Pinot. He might live in a scuzz-dump, but he’s a handsome fella and Spencer Hart suits don’t grow on trees. With nous and a little luck she might just land herself a trust fund baby.


	6. “I've heard enough, this ends now.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day - Mr and Mrs Holmes' Cottage in the country

Honestly, you would think that today of all days, they’d put a sock in it, especially with the genuine domestic drama being quietly played out in the sitting room.

She’d bang their heads together if she thought it would do any good; that went for the Watsons too, did they not realise how precious family is? Mrs Holmes turns her mind to deal with her ever squabbling brood. She could wring their necks, the authors of those parenting books that had told her the best way to prevent sibling rivalry was to encourage her seven year old to help her look after the baby. The problem was he had taken her far too seriously and for far too long.

No wonder her default setting these days was ‘monstrous’. Though when she heard her elder son imply that Sherlock’s bullet wound was just another incident of Sherlock’s endless ability to attract attention she finally flipped. “I've heard enough, this ends now.

“Out of my kitchen, and give me a break. I’m trying to make brandy sauce and I’m afraid you’ll curdle the cream!”

The boys scarper; they think she doesn’t suspect they’ll be out the front sneaking a crafty fag but she’s their mother, there’s not a lot she misses. She knows deep down they love each other despite their ceaseless bickering.


	7. “No worries, we still have time.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appledore - Christmas Evening

At what point John wonders, did Sherlock realise that his forensic knowledge of human nature had failed him in his estimation of Charles Augustus Magnussen. Was it when the Dane had flicked John’s face and his best friend had stood by and ‘let him’? Or when he had flung open the door to his vault and revealed an empty store room?

Perhaps Sherlock should have realised he was out of his depth when Magnussen used the fireplace as a urinal, or six months earlier when he’d chosen not to deliver Mary to the police but rather filed that information for future reference.

Either way, John thinks, the detective has made a mistake that will cost him, cost them all, dearly.

Magnussen however is delighted; whatever he holds on presidents and prime ministers is nothing to holding the freedom of Sherlock Holmes in the palm of his hand.

“Trying to sell state secrets, they’ll be here soon, otherwise we might have speculated on what your brother would give to keep that out of the newspapers?"

“No worries” Sherlock answers “we still have time”

Mangussen hears the sound of a helicopter over ahead, signalling an excellent conclusion to the evening’s entertainment. Distracted he doesn’t notice the detective remove the gun from John’s pocket. Ironically, he’s still gloating as the bullet enters his brain.


	8. “I Know You Do”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxing Day - Mycroft Holmes Suite at the Diogenes Club

Sherlock is sprawled on the couch in Mycroft’s suite at the Diogenes, he is measuring the impact of the ankle tag, swinging his right leg gently like a pendulum. So engrossed that Mycroft’s arrival is unobserved until he speaks.

“I persuaded The Powers That Be that no prison could secure you. You are to stay here until your departure.”

“Serbia?”

“Serbia.”

Sherlock shuffles up and Mycroft sits; they smoke their cigarettes in companionable silence.

“Do Mummy and Father know?”

“I thought it wise…”

Mycroft doesn’t finish.

“Quite so, no need to distress them further, I already ruined their Christmas”

More silence.

“John, I need to see him”

Interesting choice of word, Mycroft thinks, not want, not have... need.

“I know you do.”

“He’s not to know, he’s suffered enough through me”

And you he, thinks Mycroft.

“He might deduce, he’s not as much of an idiot as you like to make out, and Mrs Watson will certainly know the score”

“John might guess” Sherlock announces with a hint of his old arrogance “Deduction would be quite beyond him” The brothers’ sudden laughter halts abruptly.

Mycroft regards his little brother, an unexpected, painful tightness in his chest threatens to overwhelm him. Over thirty years of constant worry has failed to protect them from the inevitable.

All lives end. All hearts are broken.


	9. "You Shouldn’t Have Come Here.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Private Airfield - Early January

Trust Mycroft not to spare any expense, Sherlock thinks, slumping into the seat of the executive jet; nothing but the best for the departure of the nearly departed.

What a futile exercise that was. He’d wanted to see John one last time, to say adieu even if was really goodbye. A grand gesture? Who knows?

Instead they had stood there; two emotionally constipated Englishmen with so much to say to each other and had wasted the opportunity with inanities. The Italians would have done it better; perhaps he should have got Angelo to give them lessons.

“You shouldn’t have come here” he had wanted to shout, meaning you should have come alone. Perhaps it was for the best, no recriminations, no histrionics, no home truths, your wife wanted me dead and in a roundabout fashion she’s got her way.

He’s beginning to feel it, lightheaded, heart racing, a tremor in his left hand. The substance, blended by the surprisingly able Wiggins to Sherlock’s own specification is taking effect. He’s no wish to take his chances with the Serbians. If death is on the table he might as well make it Item One on the Agenda.

He fingers the slip of paper in his jacket pocket – the list. Never say Sherlock Holmes doesn’t keep his promises, even when he’s not coming back.


	10. "You Think This Troubles Me?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the plane returns

John Watson is angry, angrier than a forty something ex-army adrenaline junkie with trust issues who doesn’t even know his wife’s real name probably has the right to be.

The subject of his anger, a thirty something world’s only consulting detective and drug addict. The cause, the folded slip of paper containing the list of the concoction said detective had consumed before leaving terra firma. Strong enough to kill an ox.

John’s sick and tired of being left in the dark, Sherlock, Mary, Mycroft even Molly know more than he does.

He wants to know why he’s standing in a redundant Victorian graveyard when a man more recently deceased is speaking from every billboard, TV screen and mobile in the country.

Sherlock wants to dig up a hundred and twenty year old grave, and at the moment it looks like Sherlock is winning.

John tries to argue “Moriarty’s back. We have a case! We have a real-life problem right now”

But Sherlock is not to be dissuaded from the red herring of Emelia Ricoletti

“You think this troubles me? I’m not playing this time, Sherlock, not any more. When you’re ready to go to work, give me a call… I’m taking Mary home”

He turns to take his wife by the arm. She protests “You’re what?”

“Mary’s taking me home”

“Better”


	11. “But I Will Never Forget!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere between now and 1895

Sherlock hovers between reality and illusion, slipping with ease between the twenty-first century and 1895. Outside his consciousness the nation is in uproar; oblivious, deep within his mind palace Sherlock is looking for clues.

There’s something about the resurrection of James Moriarty that resonates with the detective. An investigation from a previous life or parallel universe. He recalls Watson had been spellbound, a case filled with ghosts and apparitions, messages from beyond the grave, eerie melodies, secret societies and tales from the crypt that had caused a veritable hurricane of hyperbole in the journals of his Boswell. At the centre the most magnificent maleficence, the murder of a man by a wife already dead.

How did she do it? One day she’s dead, the back of her head blown away yet the next, she’s taken a cab to Chinatown, murdered her husband and hey-presto she's back in the morgue. Sherlock knows it's all done with smoke and mirrors solve it and the mystery of Moriarty’s return's solved with it.

Emelia Ricoletti. He can see her clearly; her blonde curls framed by her wedding veil. Sherlock shakes his head, the earth tilts, _that’s not right_ he thinks _surely The Woman was dark?_

_The colour doesn’t matter, I may have forgotten the minor details but I will never forget Dr Watson’s Abominable Bride._


	12. “Who Could Do This?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Diogenes Club - 1895

Mycroft Holmes, the most powerful man in the British Empire, and the heaviest, has fingers, both literally and metaphorically, in many pies.

Legwork, never his natural milieu, has been beyond him for years even if there was time between meals. Instead he deploys a small army of agents operating in a web that would rival that of any consulting criminal. Chief of these, though neither brother would care to admit it, is the younger Holmes, along with his aide-de-camp, the estimable Watson.

Over time, Mycroft has been minded to engage his brother in several cases with features of interest. Sherlock has been minded to complain of their dullness and in due course draw them to a satisfactory conclusion.

But this situation is too delicate for Sherlock’s touch – an invisible enemy, ubiquitous, unstoppable and undetected that threatens life as it is known, and yet must not be defeated.

“Now” Mycroft wonders “Who could do this?”

He rings for the messenger and sends a card, partakes of elevenses, then luncheon in the hour before his visitor arrives.

“Little brother has taken the case, but he must never suspect you of working for me. Are you clear on that, Watson?”

Mrs Watson is clear.

Certainly, Mycroft thinks, his brother’s intimate companion is a fortunate man to possess such an excellent moustache…and reliable beard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for those who like Mary Watson, but I have always thought in the ACD stories she was nothing more than Dr Watson's beard.


	13. "Try Harder, Next Time"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some months later.

Sherlock returns the unsuccessful Toby to his master with the instruction to “Try harder, next time”.

Toby surveys Sherlock with a disappointed expression but as he has no other it is impossible to determine if the dog is genuinely stricken. Sherlock thinks not.

The game however remains on. The crime has Moriarty’s fingerprints all over it, the pursuit of the jewel implies that Sherlock was not as successful in eliminating the consulting criminal’s entire cohort as he supposed. One remains and Sherlock rises to the challenge. Craig gives him the low down on how six identical heads of some politician who is unaccountably collectable arrived in England and the plot thickens. Five are destroy and a woman is dead. Sherlock takes himself to Reading to skulk in the undergrowth and await developments. He does not have to wait long.

The intruder is as agile as he anticipated, but Sherlock is not without skills in that area himself. The baritsu training has its uses, as does two years on the run dodging innumerable assailants. A fight ensues in which Sherlock emerges the victor in that he is in possession of the prize.

Perhaps Sherlock should try harder. Yet again the detective has erred in his deductions, and it is an impossibly familiar memory stick that’s revealed in the ruins of the bust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much as I love him, for a world's only consulting detective Sherlock does seem to get a lot wrong.


	14. "Some People Call This Wisdom"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Aquarium

Some words once spoken can never be unsaid.

A vow once broken can never be repaired.

The clock can never be turned back.

A life extinguished can never be revived.

(Well, Sherlock’s was, but then he wasn’t really dead)

Take a woman with too much to hide, another with nothing to lose, add a man who will outlive God trying to have the last word and you have the all the ingredients for a tragedy.

Take a life full of consequence, and life of interminable drudgery, add a life threatening addiction to danger and lifelong aversion to boredom and eventually you’ll end up with one death too many.

Take a coffin and a crib, add a journey on a bus with a flower behind an ear and you have a guilty secret that will poison the past, the present and the future.

Take a woman who is not a housekeeper and a man who is not a sociopath and you find the gift of a promise, that if ever there is conceit or cockiness there will be one word – Norbury.

Some people would call this growing up the hard way or a sign of gettng old. Some people call this wisdom, but Sherlock only knows he curses the day he ever took the case of the Black Pearl of the Borgias.


	15. “I Thought You Had Forgotten”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Central London at night - a few weeks after the death of Mary Watson

“It’s raining. You don’t have a car, you had no coat, you’ve let yourself go, and you haven’t left your home for at least week except to wander the streets of London with me eating chips”

“When you’re suicidal. You’re allowed chips, trust me. It’s about the only perk”

“You were used to keeping things hidden from someone living in the same house where privacy could not be assumed, not any more, though, for the past few months it’s been out on display. Conclusion you live alone now”

“Amazing”

“You know you say that out loud”

“I meant the chips”

****

“How did you know about the intimacy?”

“A lover would have noticed the scars”

“How do you know he didn’t notice?”

“Because if he loved you he would have done something about it”

“Would he?”

“Isn’t that what you people do?”

“I don’t know, you tell me”

****

“Taking your own life… Interesting expression. Taking it from whom? Once it’s over, it’s not you who’ll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else… hand it over”

“I thought you had forgotten.”

“Not when it is why we’re here”

Sherlock hurls the pistol into the Thames; the swirling water awakens a memory in his mind palace. When he emerges he finds he’s alone on the footpath by Hungerford Bridge


	16. “This is Going to be So Much Fun!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hospital Mortuary - Three Weeks Later

Culverton Smith, every time you turn on your television there he is. If he isn’t selling you your breakfast he’s opening a hospital, killing a business or being honoured by Her Majesty. In the same week this man did Question Time, Songs of Praise and Sport Relief. The only thing he hasn’t done is Strictly.

Culverton Smith large as life and twice as ugly; the most compelling utterly repellent creature, an enigma, just not a very nice one. Relentlessly cheerful, the world is his playground and all the men and women merely players, acting out their parts for his gratification, or so it seems.

It’s survival of the fittest when you find yourself at sport with Culverton Smith. John thinks the drug addled Sherlock’s just been played. For the detective that’s all part of the master plan, the strategy to bring down the most dangerous, the most despicable human being that he has ever encountered with a hidden card, a secret weapon – the cereal killer’s own flesh and blood.

“This is going to be so much fun!” Smith says as he introduces Sherlock to his daughter Faith. Sherlock recoils, reality splits, a scalpel is drawn, a fight ensues and John does Smith’s dirty work for him.

He faced Moriarty, Magnussen and hostile Serbians but never has Sherlock been so thoroughly beaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For non UK readers - Question Time is a weekly roundtable political audience Q&A. Songs of Praise is a weekly religious programme with hymns and Sport Relief is a bi-annual charity spectacular which involves celebrities doing sports to raise money for good causes. Somehow I can imagine Culverton Smith being a guest on all three.


	17. “I’ll tell you but you’re not going to like it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Baker Street - after Sherlock's discharge from St Caedwalla's Hospital.

After Culverton Smith’s confession and before Mycroft’s, John Watson has a confession of his own.

His confessional is the sitting room at 221b, his Confessors a socially inept consulting detective and his ethereal companion.

“I’ll tell you but you’re not going to like it…

“I wanted more. And do you know something? I still do. I’m not the man you thought I was; I’m not that guy. I never could be. But that’s the point…That’s the whole point” John is close to tears as he reveals the magnitude of the crime he perpetrated against the person who loved him best.

“Who you thought I was .... is the man who I want to be”.

The dam bursts and there sheltered in the arms of his best friend John finally allows himself to be human after all. For Sherlock, still passing blood, battered and bruised by his only friend and the extraordinary efforts to save him, there is a new understanding of the pain that humans can inflict on each other in the name of Love.

Through understanding there’s forgiveness, in forgiveness there’s healing, and, as no confession is complete without it, in penance there is cake.

It is not the end of grief and guilt, or even the beginning of the end but perhaps it is the end of the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout Out to Ariane DeVere and the episode transcripts for John's confession in this one.


	18. “You Should Have Seen It.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whitehall

“You, of all people Mycroft, should have known, my loyalty to the Crown has always been without question, even when Magnussen was blackmailing my husband I never wavered. You should have seen that I was above suspicion, you should have seen it!”

Frankly Mycroft Holmes has had enough. He’s been apologising to Lady Smallwood for weeks and she still won’t let him forget it. Admittedly he did withdraw her ultra-status…and accuse her of treason… and the death of at least four operatives… and have her arrested but it was a matter of national security. He’d said he was sorry, what more did the bloody woman want? Thank God she was on holiday next week.

He is distracted by Lady S. She appears to be waving a card at him

“My number… my private number, let’s have a drink sometime. Call me” And with a sassy smile she’s gone leaving the British Government rather disconcerted.

Did Alicia Smallwood just proposition him? Mycroft’s not sure. He toys with the card, picks it up, puts it down and finally slips it into his pocket. It wouldn’t do for the cleaners to find it.

Might come in useful, he reflects, to make someone jealous… a certain Detective Inspector, for example, who, unlike Lady Smallwood, happens to know that Mycroft Holmes is a bossy bottom.


	19. “Oh Please, Like This is the Worst I Have Done.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherringford - The Governor's Office

John Watson, a doctor and a soldier who could break every bone in your body, while naming them, has killed before. He has killed in war and in civilian life, in defence of his realm and in defence of his friend and if necessary would do so again, in a heartbeat. What he has never done, and apparently cannot do, is kill a man in cold blood.

In the end his reticence is immaterial, the Governor, David, takes the gun and takes his own life. An exercise in futility as Eurus is pleased to remind the doctor.

“You see, what you did, Doctor Watson...specifically because of your moral code...because you don’t want blood on your hands, two people are dead instead of one”

John asks warily, nothing makes sense in this crazy world “Two people?”

“Yes. Sorry, hang on”

Mycroft, sighs, he is ahead of John on this one, and he knows the shot is coming.

“What advantage did your moral code grant you? Is it not, in the end, selfish to keep one’s hands clean at the expense of another’s life?”

“You didn’t have to kill her!” John shouts angrily.

“Oh please, like this is the worst I have done…This is an experiment. There will be rigour”

Eurus is delightedly revealing just how inventive she can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thanks to Ariane DeVere for hints on the dialogue


	20. “I Hope You Have a Speech Prepared.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherringford - later the same day

Mycroft has hugely underestimated the depths of his sister’s madness. He could never have envisaged a crisis such as this.

Sherlock has a gun, a bullet and a choice.

“It’s an elimination round. You choose one and kill the other” Eurus instructs Sherlock. “You have to choose family or friend. Mycroft or John Watson?” Then addressing her older brother “I hope you have a speech prepared.”

Mycroft has. Like all great men he has thought about his legacy, his final words, his parting gift to the nation. Something along the lines of ‘How is the Empire’ rather than ‘Bugger Bognor’.

He had hoped for a quiet retirement and a chance to finish his definitive history of the British Isles, (and possibly his memoirs) before expiring in a touching deathbed scene.

Instead, like many great men, his hubris has brought about his downfall. He will die prematurely and unmourned at his brother’s hand. How Roman.

In a last act of mercy, to spare his cherished brother pain, Mycroft’s final words are carefully designed to goad Sherlock into killing him. In detail and at length he dismisses as worthless the complex, courageous, noble man that is, John Watson

Mycroft’s plan is unsuccessful; he is almost relieved, though slightly hurt, when Sherlock tells John to ignore him.

“He was more convincing as Lady Bracknell”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> King George V has a number of reputed final words - officially it is something like How's the Empire? but unofficially is was thought to be Bugger Bognor (a seaside resort that had been suggested for convalescence)


	21. “Impressive, Truly.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musgrave Hall, by the well.

“The police will be here soon with divers and bolt cutters, can you hold on to the rope a little longer? I’d climb down to you but I don’t think I could free you, and anyway…”

Sherlock doesn’t finish the sentence. Eurus is catatonic but still he doesn’t trust her.

John can hang on; the water is up to his chin but no longer rising. He’s cold, his neck is killing him, but the sound of his friend’s voice and the knowledge that rescue is on its way helps. The resilience of the human spirit – remarkable.

Sherlock passes the time by telling John how he worked it out; deciphering Eurus’s song and the clues in the impossible gravestones. Even in the most fraught of circumstances Sherlock preens a little at John’s admiration.

“Impressive, truly. But I’ll be more impressed once I’m out of here”

Sherlock has to agree, he concentrates on supporting his friend, this isn’t the time to examine his memories and all that has happened to him because as a six year old he’d chosen to play pirates with another little boy from the village instead of his sister.

There will be time enough to mourn that little boy, his childhood best friend, the intrepid Redbeard with his ginger hair and eye patch, reduced to a pile of bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In order to write these I have watched series four again - very closely - all very clever but you could drive a coach and horses through the plot holes. Just saying)


	22. “I Know How You Love to Play Games”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately after Musgrave Hall - Molly Hooper's flat.

Sherlock has only one thing on his mind on reaching London; more crucial than attending to Baker Street or helping the police with their enquiries. He has to see Molly.

He tracks her down, not at Bart’s, but at home in her little flat. It is of course familiar to him. He remembers being holed up here after the fall, in Molly’s ‘spare’ room, waiting for Mycroft to spirit him out of the country. The last place anyone would have thought of looking.

He dreads the conversation and half hopes Molly isn’t in. He has some inkling of what he must have put her through, as he has come to realise, he’s not immune to unrequited love himself.

Molly, when she answers the door is surprisingly chipper. After listening quietly to his stumbling explanation, she offers him coffee while her cat kneads his legs.

“I didn’t understand at first; I know how you love to play games, and you are often cruel. But I know you well enough to recognise when something isn’t right. I could tell by your voice.

“To be honest, although it was incredibly painful, saying the words out loud was cathartic” she pauses and then adds “You should try it sometime”

After Sherlock leaves, Molly reaches for her phone – time to move on she thinks, checking Bumble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumble is a women-led dating app and a gift to the 221B ficlet writer!


	23. “This is Not New, It Only Feels Like it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baker Street - Some weeks after Sherringford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks into writing ficlets for the fictober 2018 I wondered - what about the other flats at 221 Baker Street, do they ever have ficlets of their own? So I had a bit of time that weekend and this happened.

221A - Martha Hudson 

Mrs Hudson is minding Rosie while upstairs John is wrangling with an electrician about the rewiring.

Her own flat suffered only minimum damage. The windows were blown out and the ceilings have had to be replastered and oh… the dust! However, not unlike Martha Hudson, these buildings were built to last. If they survived the Blitz, they could survive any old patience bomb or whatyoucallit that Sherlock’s psychotic sister could throw at them.

Mind you, the shock of seeing a whey faced Mycroft land at the foot of her stairs could have been enough to kill her. He was in a state. She might have relented and made him a cup of tea… if the landing hadn’t been ablaze.

Anthea had been a godsend, getting the place boarded up, booking her into a hotel at Mycroft’s expense and sorting out the insurance. Now John seemed to be happy to project manage the whole renovation job, and she had the pleasure of Rosie’s company while he did it.

“Say Nana” Mrs Hudson coaxes with a spoon of puréed carrot. “Say Nana”

Poor motherless babe, so easy to look after; no doubt that would change once the terrible twos set in. Still, she has plenty of experience of dealing with tantrums and it is wonderful to have her boys under her roof again.

221B - John and Rosie Watson 

The motion-triggered grenade had been particularly random in the damage it had caused. The sitting room had caught the brunt of it, while Sherlock’s bedroom had emerged relatively unscathed. The kitchen was a mess, not helped, no doubt, by the amount of volatile liquids that Sherlock stored there. The plasterboard wall in John’s old room had collapsed, revealing a huge space under the eaves which had, in his opinion, great potential. There was even an ancient hand basin fixed to the far wall, probably left over from when the household had a servant, but hopefully meant the upper floor still had a water supply.

It should be easy to add another bedroom with an en suite, and eventually, if things turned out the way he planned, his room could be turned into a sitting room for Rosie when she was older, and needed her own territory.

Mrs Hudson had surprisingly comprehensive insurance for a residential building in central London, though as the widow of a drug dealer she was probably right to be prepared for every eventuality. Mycroft’s pockets were deep and even John, with Mary’s life insurance in the bank, was in the position to contribute.

John had made a couple of rough sketches and thought his ideas could work. Pleased with himself, he went to talk to the builders.

221C - Sherlock Holmes 

“What’s that doing down here?”

John has descended the stairs to the basement flat in search of Sherlock. 221C has been damp proofed and redecorated as part of the refurbishment but it is still musty and has next to no natural light. John has never liked it since the incident with the trainers.

John is investigating a mystery. Over the past few days a number of items have gone walkabout from 221B. So much was destroyed either by fire or water that it is hard to keep tabs on everything but he knows the replacement Union Jack cushion is missing. This morning, after he caught two of Mycroft’s gofers dismantling Sherlock’s bedroom, John decided he needed to discover what’s going on.

The first thing he sees, along with the periodic table, and the picture of Edgar Allen Poe is Sherlock’s bed. Hence the question.

Sherlock jumps, “Er…relocating…making upstairs safer for Watson”

John sighs “You were there when we discussed the renovations. Did you hear anything we said?”

Sherlock blinks; it’s true he has selective hearing. “You… Rosie…” he falters “living here… 221B… lot to take in… all a bit new” 

John is exasperated with his friend, the idiot.

“This is not new; Sherlock… it only feels like it… When I said move down here I only meant your chemicals!”


	24. “You Know This, You Know This to be True.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> University College Hospital - Accident and Emergency Department

Everyone agrees that Sherlock is remarkably good with Rosie, but then he’s been looking after her since she was a few weeks old.

John has no compunction in leaving his daughter in his flatmate’s care in the newly refurbished, toddler proofed 221B while he’s at the dentist. So he is rather alarmed on leaving the surgery to find fifty missed calls from a frantic Sherlock.

Sherlock is mortified but John, when he is arrives at A&E, is quite calm (though that’s possibly the aftereffects of the lidocaine).

“Rosie’s fine…” he tells the panic-stricken Sherlock “you did exactly the right thing… it wasn’t as bad as it looked, probably just shock, and the speed you had her bundled up and into the back of a taxi”

Sherlock, however, is inconsolable “She hurt herself on my watch - one minute she was chattering away to teddy, the next she’s in the kitchen with a bump the size of an egg. I don’t understand how she got out of her playpen”

“She’s an escapologist, of course she is; she takes after you. Nurture over nature”

John smiles fondly at Sherlock’s woebegone expression and pulls his friend into a tight hug.

“Rosie adores you. You’re a good parent. You know this; you know this to be true. We’d both be lost without you… Sherlock…BREATHE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can imagine Sherlock a somewhat over anxious parent, although quite happy to gift Rosie a full set of lock picks for her fourth birthday


	25. “Go Forward, Do Not Stray.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelo's - Twelve Months after the end of The Lying Detective

A case Lestrade had said, with coded messages, no more than a five but with the potential to be a seven or even an eight if there was more than one body.

“Right up your street, perp’s obviously a chemist or some kind of scientific background”

Sherlock’s on his own, John hasn’t got a sitter and the Yard can’t keep up with him. The criminal leaves a series of clues using a cypher based on hieroglyphics, the periodic table, dancing men and the highway code. Each one is a devil of a job to crack. Sherlock is in his element.

By the time he reaches Northumberland Street where another clue’s pinned to the door it’s gone seven.

Four dancing men and Tungsten, a red circle with a diagonal line, a satyr – “Aha! Go forward, do not stray!”

Heedless of danger he pushes the door to Angelo’s; it swings open even though the restaurant is in darkness.

“ ** _Surprise_**!”

The lights go on – everyone is there – Hudders and Mr Chatterjee _(is that on again? Who knew?)_ Mummy and Father, Molly and what’s his name _(don’t call him Tom, whatever you do don’t call him Tom!),_ Anthea, Sally and Anderson and Wiggins _(Really?),_ Mycroft and Lestrade _(WHAT!! Mycroft and Lestrade???)_ and John with Rosie, arms outstretched coming forward to greet her Papa.

“’appy Bir’dy”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggled with this one so 'It's for a case' will have to do.  
> Sherlock cannot deduce whether it was Mycroft or Mummy who set up the clues but won't admit this so cannot ask (it was in fact Mummy and Mycroft working together).


	26. “But if You Cannot See it, Is it Really There?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baker Street at Night. Some months after the events of The Final Problem

Sometimes late at night, after a case is satisfactorily concluded, a takeaway consumed. After the fire’s lit, Rosie’s in bed and Sherlock has put down his violin, after two fingers each of the twelve year old malt are poured, the conversation at 221B turns philosophical.

“It’s like” John muses “nothing exists outside this flat”

“Quantum Physics or Solipsism?”

“Soli what?”

“Solipsism, the idea that only what is in your own mind exists for certain”

“Is this the palace thing?”

Sherlock feigns outrage “the Loci method of recall is not ‘the palace thing’! Solipsism argues we cannot be certain what we see exists”

“Like the elephant in the room”

“But we did see an elephant”

“True, but usually when we talk about the elephant in the room it something unseen”

“But if you cannot see it, is it really there?”

“Lots of things are intangible; it doesn’t make them less real, courage for example, hope or… love”

John waits for Sherlock to scoff at his mention of the L word but instead his friend looks thoughtful.

“I used to say all emotions were abhorrent to me”

“You did”

“That sentiment was a chemical defect found on the losing side”

“Now?

Sherlock’s hands are in prayer pose, his answer a long time coming.

“No, not now. That’s what Mycroft taught me to believe”


	27. “Remember, You Have to Remember.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baker Street - the early hours of the morning after a particularly stressful day

Neither John nor Sherlock are immune to night terrors.

Although these days John rarely struggles for survival in the sands of Afghanistan, his sub-conscious often takes him back to Bart’s, or Sherrinford, as he is forced to watch, without reprieve, his friend sacrifice his life for others.

For Sherlock, his torture at the hands of Serbians has left more than physical scars though generally it is Musgrave Hall that disturbs his dreams.

Eurus taunts him “Remember, you have to remember.”

But Sherlock cannot remember and with the rising waters Redbeard is lost to him, though the body that is recovered is John’s.

John having an insomniac spell, in the kitchen at 3 A.M. waiting for the kettle to boil hears Sherlock cry out, and then again. Immediately alert he realises it is not a soldier Sherlock requires, nor a doctor, but a friend.

He fills another mug with tea, sweetened for shock and taking both drinks, taps gently on the bedroom door. Sherlock awake, wide eyed and fretful, the nightmare still colouring reality is both relieved and embarrassed to see John.

“I’m sorry I woke you”

“You didn’t, rough night for me too”

There’s no need for further explanation, they sip their tea; John sat on the edge of the bed.

“If you like I could stay for a bit”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued...


	28. “I Felt It. You know What I Mean.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baker Street, Sherlock's bedroom, the small hours  
> (Immediately after chapter 27 and referencing chapter 1)

John fetches the baby monitor, Rosie tends to sleep through the night but it wouldn’t do not to hear her wake.

“Budge up then, I’m not about to freeze my bollocks off out here”

Startled Sherlock does as he’s told; John peels back the quilt and scoots underneath.

They lie close but not touching, silent, each comforted by the presence of the other. Sherlock listens to John’s breathing; his own heart thumping, he imagines John’s might be the same. Rashly, (this night is extraordinary) Sherlock ventures to take hold of John’s wrist. Pulse raised!

It brings to mind the dream he had, when he was back in intensive care after his relapse, and emboldened by the fact John hasn’t pulled away, he says so.

“I felt it. You know what I mean.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a dream. I was there on the ward when you briefly came round”

Sherlock cannot compute, he blinks rapidly, his face hot; there was more to the dream than taking John’s pulse. He has to ask.

“Did…did you kiss me?”

“That I did”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to, always have, still do”

“But you’re not gay; you say so at every opportunity”

“Seemed safer, with you being married to your work… I’m not gay, Sherlock, not as such, but you probably could call me bisexual”


	29. “At Least It Can’t Get Any Worse.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another trip to Accident and Emergency and a Marriage Proposal of a sort

Despite or maybe because of, the years of mutual pining John and Sherlock do not rush their relationship. There are gentle touches and soft squeezes. John relocates to Sherlock’s room and Sherlock, when he sleeps, sleeps with John beside him.

John steers things slowly, considerate of Sherlock’s innocence and his own lack of (recent) experience, they are content and see no need for declarations of permanence.

Until John is injured on a case, that is.

The villain springs from nowhere leaving John unconscious and bleeding. The rest of the yarders give chase while traumatised Sherlock cradles John and Lestrade secures an ambulance.

The response time is impeccable and John is quickly transported to casualty. Thankfully, by the time they arrive he is stirring, in pain but lucid.

At least. Sherlock thinks. It can’t get any worse – prematurely as it turns out.

The receptionist refuses point blank to let Sherlock through. It is only the timely intervention of Lestrade that prevents his arrest. That the Inspector with his badge can gain admittance but Sherlock cannot is unacceptable. What does she mean ‘next of kin only’ - John is his everything.

“Next of kin?” Sherlock questions, the information deleted.

Lestrade helps him out “Son, father, brother, husband, that sort of thing”

Husband! 

Sherlock is resolved. Never again will anyone think John is his boyfriend.


	30. "Do We Really Have to do This Again?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Physick Garden, Royal College of Physicians, sometime in the summer

Sherlock would have been happy to stand up with John at the Town Hall before the registrar and two witnesses but John, perhaps not wanting to give the impression that this marriage is inferior to his first, insists on a more lavish affair.

Mummy and Mrs Hudson rise to the occasion, Sherlock deprived of planning duties drives everyone to distraction until Mummy begs Lestrade to find her son a case. Scotland Yard obliges and the engaged couple spend three days in Camberwell on the trail of a poisoner before taking the day off to get married.

Vows, rings and kisses are exchanged followed by an outdoor reception at the Royal College of Physicians. Sherlock is surprised to discover that his own wedding is remarkably lacking in tedium, despite the absence of murderous photographers. (Although considering Sherlock’s limited capacity for social niceties, the photographer might be the victim this time).

“Do we really have to do this again?” He whines as they pose in the stunning Physick garden. (The answer’s ‘Yes’)

“Amazing isn’t it?” John reflects “That these plants taken in moderation cure, but an incorrect dosage kills”

“John! It was the gardener…” Grabbing his husband by the hand “Come on John, we’ve a killer to apprehend”

“Well” Mycroft whispers to his own intended “At least Dr Watson will never be bored”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate Episode - I debated between the British Medical Association House and the Royal College of Physicians for the venue wedding but the RCP physick garden tipped the balance


	31. “I’ve Waited So Long For This.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening of the Wedding Day - Baker Street

Sherlock and John vetoed a honeymoon.

Mr and Mrs Holmes kindly suggested Martha and Rosie might like to go home with them after the wedding and Mrs Hudson agreed thinking it would be nice for her ‘married ones’ to have Baker Street to themselves for a few days.

Exhausted by events both planned and unplanned, John and Sherlock make an early night of it. There in the half-light they consummate their marriage, it is everything they had hoped it would be… and more.

Too happy to sleep, they lie entwined in the darkness, so very glad to have reached their destination after so many false starts and wrong turns.

For Sherlock, it is no surprise that he loves the wholly magnificent John Watson, who could know John and not love him. That John loves him in return is completely unfathomable to the former sociopath; to the extent that he often catches himself wondering if he ever regained consciousness after Mary’s bullet and if all that has happened since is no more than a dream.

The thought makes him anxious; he burrows into John’s arms. John sensing agitation whispers into the shell of Sherlock’s ear

“I’ve waited so long for this.”

“What?” Sherlock questions immediately diverted. “What have you waited for?”

“To call you my own, Sherlock Holmes, my darling, my beloved”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! it is done - the OTP have arrived where they belong, together at Baker Street.  
> Big thanks to ADC for housing his heroes at 221B and not 221X or Z or something equally impossible to end a sentence on.


End file.
